


half as much as I love you

by ariadne_odair



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Break Up, Established Relationship, F/F, Fingering, Louis is insecure and jealous, Pining, and just wants her girlfriend to kiss her, girl harry, girl louis, only it all blows up spectacularly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-07-28
Packaged: 2018-02-10 19:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036865
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ariadne_odair/pseuds/ariadne_odair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>How is Louis supposed to compete with that? Louis, in her denim jacket and vans, with her too curvy body, her too thick thighs. She doesn't know how to compete with a 21 year old graduate, with smoky lashes and hair that belongs on a shampoo advert. </i>
</p><p>  <i>She shouldn't have to compete, is the thing. She shouldn't have to fight for Harry, because Harry is her girlfriend. Even if she seems to have forgotten that.</i></p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Or the one where Louis is jealous and insecure, and all Louis wants is for her girlfriend to want her, and she's scared that Harry doesn't (only of course she does.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	half as much as I love you

**Author's Note:**

> sappy girlfriends turned sad girlfriends turned sappy in the end :)
> 
> thank you star55 who is all kinds of awesome and a lesbian guru so go follow her on tumblr :)

"Babe, do you want to come to Nick's party next week?"

Louis chews her pasta slowly. The school canteen is crap, it tastes like a wet sock, and she only knows what that tastes like after a very drunk round of truth or dare with Niall.

"Harry," Louis says slowly, spearing a piece of sock pasta. "Do you think I'm going to want to come to Nick's party?"

Harry pouts adorably, but then again Louis thinks everything Harry does is a adorable. Once, she ran to Louis' house in the rain, and Louis almost had a heart attack at the sight of her girlfriend looking like a wet kitten. She literally almost died of sweetness.

"Please come," Harry whines, texting furiously. "It'll be fun."

"It'll be coma inducing," Louis clarifies, swallowing her pasta with a grimace. "It'll be pretentious. It'll be tedious. It'll be a bunch of hipster dickheads talking about a bunch of hipster dickhead bands. It will not," Louis finishes grandly, "be  _fun."_

Of course that's not the only reason for refusing to go, but Louis ignores that part of her brain, focuses on mutilating her pasta. There's no reason to bring up old wounds.

Harry's about to answer, when Niall throws herself into the seat next to Louis, stealing her pasta. Louis watches it go with no remorse.

"Hazza, Lewis," Niall greets, then cracks up like it's the funniest thing in the world.

"I can see your belly button piercing," Louis tells her flatly. Niall ignores her and starts attacking Louis' pasta.

Niall's white tank top barely reaches her navel, revealing her blue belly piercing whenever it rides up. She's also wearing a green snap back over her blond, scruffy hair, despite that it's a) February and b) England.

Louis would be slapped into the detention for a month if she dressed like Niall, but Niall never gets in trouble. Neither does Harry, even though she undoes her shirts far enough you can see her tits. (Not that Louis minds.)

"Louis," Harry whines, sliding closer to her. She tries to drag her chair closer surreptitiously, but she only manages to make a massive screeching sound. Louis bites her lip to stop herself laughing at Harry's disgruntled expression.

"Haz, I'm not coming," she says firmly, and Harry's face falls, shifting unhappily in her chair.

Her shuffling makes her denim shorts ride up, exposing the tan skin of her thighs. Harry's wearing a black shirt today with lacy shoulders, and Louis can see she's wearing a strapless bra.

Louis imagines sliding her hand up Harry's shorts, feeling the silkiness of Harry's underwear, getting her off in the middle of the canteen, slick under her hands whilst no one notices -

"Stop distracting me with sex," Louis says bluntly. Harry, the dirty stop put, just bats her eyelashes, as if she hadn't been purposely pull her shorts up.

"I'm not," Harry protests, but her dimples flashing give her away. She giggles, playing with a strand of her long, curly hair, and Louis' heart does a little flip.

"You're not cute."

"Yeah I am," Harry says confidently, sliding her hand into Louis'. She squeezes her hand, palms sliding together, then begins to eat her salad with the other one.

Louis watches her fondly, before kissing her quickly on the cheek. Harry grins, but keeps eating her salad. 

"Stop being disgusting," Niall scowls, taking a sip of her coke, "or I'll tell Mr Cardle you had sex in the music cupboard."

" _Do it_ ," Louis dares her, raising a supercilious eyebrow, "and then we'll just have sex in your cupboard, next time we sleep over. Won't we, Haz?"

Harry nods dutifully, putting down her fork to begin texting. "Course, Lou."

Awe. Best girlfriend.

"I hate you," Niall scowls, "I'm telling Liam."

Louis just rolls her eyes. Harry next to her gives her a sideways glance. Louis ignores her until she can physically feel holes being burnt into her head.

"Harry," Louis snaps, slamming her coke down, "I'm not going."

Harry just smiles.

 

 

 

Harry's slowly circles her thumb around Louis' clit, the pad of her thumb catching just slightly and making her squirm. Sex with Harry is always so  _good,_ and Louis' so wet she thinks she might cry.

Harry's parents are miraculously out for the evening. Gemma's at her boyfriends, so they'd wasted no time in ripping off each other's clothes the moment they got to Harry's.

Louis has had one too many close calls at her own house, so it's Harry's or nothing, and Louis' not fucking rationing sex.

"So," Harry says leisurely, still blissed out from her own orgasm, then crooks her finger inside Louis. Louis keens as Harry slowly slides in a second finger, easy with how slick Louis is, then whines as Harry begins to pump them in a tantalisingly slow rhythm.

"What?" Louis pants, "you've already gotten off, what?"

Harry uses her free hand to drag one finger around Louis' hardened nipple, pinching it just hard enough Louis' legs clench involuntary.

"Just thinking," Harry drawls, bending down to catch Louis' mouth in a soft kiss. Louis tangles a hand in Harry's hair, tugging it so Harry moans.

Harry's so much taller than her. Louis loves it, loves the way she's tall enough to cover Louis' body, whilst teasing her with one hand. It makes her feel safe and turned on at the same time which is par for the course around Harry.

"About next week," Harry mumbles against her lips. Louis has no idea what's happening next week, or next year, or even tomorrow. It could be the apocalypse for all she cares, as long as she _gets off._  

All she cares about now is how Harry's hand is moving faster, thrusting into her as she rubs her clit, the over stimulation make her thighs shake, Harry's fingers making her feel so _full._

"The party," Harry says, and seriously, why the fuck is she talking, Louis should kick her out of bed, but then Harry's twisting her hand just right, and Louis comes, white hot and exploding through her.

Harry strokes her through the aftershocks, until Louis pushes her away, too sensitive. She flops back onto the bed, babbling something about 'so good,' and 'yes,' and 'fucking  _talking.'_

Harry sniper crawls up the bed like an  _idiot,_ lying on her stomach and staring at Louis like a fucking stalker. Her face is flushed and soft with after glow, hair falling around her like dark waves. She looks like some kind of mischievous sex nymph. Louis loves her so much.

"Okay, what?" Louis sighs, throwing one arm over her eyes. Harry begins to trail her fingers over Louis' stomach, tracing stars and stories, and their names entwined together.

"You said yes," Harry says reverently, grinning from ear to ear.

Louis peeks out from under her arm. "Um. Yes. That is something people tend to say during sex. When people are saying no it's generally a bad sign."

"Noo," Harry drawls lazily, propping her head up on her elbow. "You said  _yes."_

"Did you propose?" Louis asks snappily, and then she gets it. Fuck. 

"You  _bitch,"_ Louis gasps, sitting up, drawing her up knees up and sitting up against the headboard. "No way, that does not count, during sex does not count, that's so out of line - "

"I distinctly heard you, er,  _moan_ yes," Harry smirks, green eyes darkening in amusement. "That's good enough for me. You are so coming, Louis Tomlinson - "

"Already done that," Louis says sulkily, and Harry bursts into laughter, "Harry, I hate you so much right now. I didn't want to come - "

"The past five minutes say otherwise," Harry says brightly. Ugh, why is she so happy. She's like a Duracell bunny. Why is she so happy? What happened to spooning after sex, not blackmailing your unsuspecting girlfriend.

"Ugh, why do you even want me to come to the stupid party?" Louis groans, grabbing a pillow and smushing her face with it. Maybe she can suffocate herself before next week.

"Because," Harry says loudly, pulling the pillow out of Louis' hands. "That's what couples  _do,_ Louis. Yes, I want to go to the party, but I want you to come as well. Because I like spending time with my girlfriend."

Louis sighs, closing her eyes, even as something warm spreads through her chest at Harry's words. How's she supposed to respond to that? "Fine, I'll come."

Harry squeals, actually  _punching her fist into the air._ Louis is dating a child.

"But you owe me an orgasm!" Louis snaps, attempting to regain some kind of control.

Harry looks all too happy to get her mouth on Louis' pussy in exchange. Louis hopes she drowns.

 

 

 

 

So. Louis might not have been completely honest about why she doesn't want to go to Nick's party.

The thing is, she doesn't actually hate Nick himself. He can be a bit (read: a lot) of a prat, but he's actually quite funny sometimes. He's the kind of bitter and twisted that Louis can appreciate. And besides, Harry likes him, so Louis could make do.

No, the problem isn't Nick. Nick doesn't have smoky eyelashes, or big, voluminous hair, or plastic surgeon worthy boobs, or a fancy degree in political-social science, which is apparently a thing.

In essence, Nick isn't Caroline Flack.

Caroline Flack is Harry's - Louis doesn't want to say ex-girlfriend, because they weren't. It's more like ex-cougar. She's one of Nick's friends, and Harry once told her they'd had a bit of thing when she was 16.

"Caroline was my first  _girl,_ " Harry had said earnestly, whilst they were bonding over coming out stories, and that had been fine.

Harry had been cool about Louis awkwardly explaining the fooling around Zayn and her had done, so it would have been hypocritical for Louis to comment. Until she found out Caroline was three years older than Harry. And stupidly attractive in a loose kind of way. And was fundamentally a breeding ground for all of Louis' insecurities.

Louis' not even overly insecure. Yeah, she has her bad days, where she's convinced she resembles a yeti, but who doesn't? Exactly maybe Zayn, but she's the exception to everything.

Louis likes her curves, likes the way she can wear tight dresses to show off her body, likes how she suits Harry's too big shirts and trackies at the same time. Likes how her hair suits a messy pixie cut, but she also pull up into a ponytail and look vaguely like she's done on purpose. 

But she's not a 21 year old uni student, with the stunning looks only puberty can buy. She's also not Harry's  _first,_ which should sting less than it does, should hurt less than she wants to admit. 

It's the small spark of intimidation that blooms into a raging wild fire - that nagging feeling that maybe Harry's comparing her to Caroline every time they kiss.

Which she hasn't, Louis knows she would never do that, not even in her head, but. Well. Who said self-deprecation's rational?

To top it off, Caroline is best friends with Nick Grimshaw, meaning there's a 200% chance she'll be at the party on Saturday.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

 

 

 

"I'm so excited!" Harry says for the third time, practically skipping every third step, smile lighting up her face.

Louis just sighs and wraps her denim jacket further around her. She's got a beanie on because she can't trust her hair, and her favourite black leggings, but she can already feel self-consciousness gnawing at her bones.

It's cold out on the way to Nick's house, the air nipping Louis' skin, and she holds Harry's hand tighter as she burrows further into her jacket, the coolness of the night raising goosebumps on her arms.

She risks a glance at Harry - babbling on about fruit or some crap - and feels herself smile a little. Harry looks so gorgeous, chestnut curls held back by a funky headband, her plaid shirt undone to reveal the hollow of her neck, her cross necklace making her skin look even paler than usual.

She's stunning, but Harry's always been stunning, and Louis has to look away, biting her lip hard.

"Boo?" Harry asks mid-ramble, green eyes wide, lashes an ashy smudge against her skin. "Are you okay? Do you feel sick?"

Louis can do this. She can do this for her girlfriend, for Harry, who she loves more than anything. She can put on a show, she can go in there and not feel out of place, or stupid, or like a bloody spare part.

"Perfect, babe," she says brightly, forcing her mouth into a smile, "what were you saying about pineapples?"

"Guavas," Harry corrects gently, squeezing her hand, "did you know guavas belong to the myrtle family?"

Louis hasn't a clue what the fuck a myrtle is, so she just looks suitably impressed, and goes back to focusing on her feet.

"Lou," Harry says again, tilting her chin up with one finger, "Lou, what's wrong? You're so quiet."

 _I'm scared you're going to leave me,_ Louis wants to say, but the words burn on her tongue, scalding her as if they're acid. She swallows, throat tight.

She doesn't even know why she's being like this; her and Harry have been together for a  _year._ They have matching  _toothbrushes._ Niall doesn't even bother using their names now, she just calls them 'Houis' which is apparently their couple name.

Maybe it's that this is first time Louis will have seen Caroline since she and Harry got together. The last time - last spring - they were still kidding themselves about being 'just friends.' This will be different.

Maybe it's that football season is over, and the new season of  _Pretty Little Liars_ is on, so she's pretty certain she's put on weight.

Maybe she's just hideously insecure, and has no idea what to do with it.

"I'm just - I just have a headache," Louis lies finally. She can't lie to Harry, but she's not ruining this either. Nick's going to uni next year, Louis knows how desperate Harry is to cram in as much time with him as possible.

"Awe, babe," Harry coos, which only makes Louis feel worse. "Do you want a paracetamol?"

Louis can't exactly say no, so she takes it. She has to swallow it dry as well. It lodges in her throat and refuses to move. It's a paracetamol of  _lies._

"Are you feeling better?" Harry asks anxiously, and Louis laughs.

"It takes a while to kick in, Hazza." She is a liar. A filthy liar. A pill popping liar.

Harry sticks her tongue out at her, rolling her eyes. "I know that. Are you sure you're okay?"

"I'm  _fine,_ " Louis insists. Jesus, next time she's going to have an actual injury. Lying to Harry is like tripping a puppy. A blind puppy. With three legs.

"Okay," Harry says hesitantly, allowing Louis to propel her along. The irony doesn't escape Louis that she's now the one encouraging Harry to go to the party. 

"Tell me if it gets worse," Harry insists, "I'll take you home, okay?"

"Yep," Louis says brightly, and knocks on Nick's door hard enough her knuckles smart.

 

 

 

 

 

The party is even worse than Louis thought, and Louis had a plethora of no-win scenarios, so that's a miracle in itself.

First of all, the drink tastes as though someone's pissed in it. Maybe they have. Maybe urine's the next big hipster thing. 

Secondly, Louis is sitting on some grotty sofa,  _alone,_ which she watches Caroline hit on her girlfriend.

Caroline is currently admiring the  _I can't change_ tattoo on Harry's wrist. She's doing this by leaning as close as she possibly can to Harry, so their shoulders are brushing. She's trailing one hand over Harry's creamy skin again and again, and giving over exaggerated laughs every time Harry says something.

Harry doesn't even notice, is the thing. Harry genuinely believes Caroline is being friendly, or drunk, or some other excuse. Harry's being  _kind,_ and Caroline is blatantly exploiting that, and that makes Louis angrier than ever.

Louis feels as though her stomach is burning, her insides twisting into knots. She feels so jealous it's  _horrible,_ this uncontrollable surge of resentment, scratching under her skin relentlessly.

The worst thing is, Harry offered to introduced Louis to everyone. Had pleaded practically, and Louis had just waved her off to get a drink. Because Louis is scared, and weak, and now she keeps reliving the flash of hurt in Harry's eyes.

By the time Caroline's gripping Harry's thigh, stroking one thumb along her jeans to 'admire the fabric', Louis gets up from the sofa, heading to the kitchen. She grabs a can of coke from the fridge, swearing when it fizzes over her hand.

"Elegant, princess," Nick says, entering the kitchen. His quiff has deflated into a messy fringe, and he's wearing his stupid hipster glasses. 

"Shut up," Louis mutters, running her finger round the rim of her can.

Nick pauses, staring at her. "Cazza's pretty drunk," he says slowly, "you might - "

"I don't want to talk about it," Louis snaps, horrified to feel tears pricking at the back of her eyes. She doesn't need sympathy, especially not from Nick fucking Grimshaw.

"Louis," Nick says quietly, pushing his glasses up his nose. He stands still, toes pointed inwards, tapping a rhythm on his thigh. "Look, she gets handsy when she's wasted, I - "

There's a clatter from the door, then Caroline herself stumbles in. Louis can see she's just teetering over the line of drunk to completely fucked. She blinks long lashes when she sees Nick and Louis.

"Speak of the devil," Louis mutters, and Nick flashes her a quick, sharp smile.

"Nick," Caroline drawls, slinging an arm around his shoulders. She blinks at Louis. "Louise, right?"

" _Louis_ ," Louis corrects, feeling the hairs rise on her arms. "Where's Harry?"

Caroline blinks again. Louis wants to cut her eyelashes off. "In the loos, I think? She's grown up, what a difference a year can make, her  _tits - "_

"Caroline!" Nick says harshly. Louis' frozen, struck dumb with anger, with humiliation, with just this never ending chant of  _not enough not enough._

"What?" Caroline slurs, staring at him, "bet she makes the same noises when she gets fucked, she was always so _wet_  - "

Louis slams her can down hard enough coke comes spilling out. "Tell Harry I've gone home," she bites out, because there's no way she can deal with this. 

"Louis - " Nick says, but Louis' already out the kitchen, out the door, out onto the street. 

The street lamps are on, and they look like blurry flames when Louis begins to cry. She knows Harry will come looking for her, so she takes a different route home. She begins to run at some points, only she trips. The gravel cuts into her hands, embedding into her palms, and Louis thinks vaguely that's how she feels.

All the insecurities, all the doubts, all the self deprecation is like dirty, sharp gravel, and it slides under her skin and into her blood, until she can't hold hands for hurting. 

 

 

 

 

**You have three missed calls:**

**9.45 - MISSED CALL: Hazza**

**9.47 - MISSED CALL: Hazza**

**9.52 - MISSED CALL: Hazza**

 

**You have six new messages from: Hazza**

 

**You have two voicemails from: Hazza**

 

Harry knocks on her front door the next day. Louis' feeling bruised from last night, both inside and out so she tells her mum not to let her in. She forgets to tell the twins though, so predictably Harry bounds up the stairs two seconds later.

She's in a blue beanie and her Ramones top. She's wearing grey joggers and pumps with no socks, and Louis' heart clenches when she realises Harry must have just gotten out of bed.

"Boo?" Harry asks, eyes widening when she sees Louis, "Oh my god, are you okay? I called you three times last night, it wasn't until Nick told me you'd gone home I knew where you were."

"I'm surprised you noticed," Louis says, and regrets it the moment it comes out her mouth. It sounds bitter, cruel. It doesn't sound like her.

Harry's eyes widen, confusion flashing through them. She wrinkles her nose, pushing back a loose curl. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"I'm just saying," Louis continues, hating herself with every syllable, but unable to hold back, not now she's started. "She were so busy with Caroline that I'm surprised you'd realised I'd gone."

Harry mouth drops open. She swallows, throat working furiously. "Louis, Caroline is a friend, she's only just back from uni, we were  _talking - "_

"Looked like more than that," Louis snaps, balling her hands up into fists. Her hair's in a ratty bun and she's in her Hulk pyjamas, and she feels ridiculously exposed.

Harry's eyes flash dangerously. "Are you accusing me of cheating?" Harry asks lowly, and her voice cracks in the middle, "because I would  _never,_ Caroline was  _drunk - "_

"Please, she was clearly after one thing," Louis snarls, all the humiliation from last night fuelling the rage in her chest. 

She hates herself, because this is what  _she does._ She lashes out, she pushes people away because it's easier, easier than admitting to herself she's messed up, that she's messing people up. So she uses words as a weapon, makes her tone as cold as ice, and it's such a  _bitch move,_ but it's all she's got. It's literally the only defence in her arsenal.

"You've got to be kidding," Harry says incredulously, her cheeks flushing, "she was hammered, she was just being friendly, I would never cheat on you, she's my  _friend - "_

"She's a cougar who used you for sex," Louis snaps, and even she realises that's a little far. She's no idea if Harry and Caroline were even friends before they started fucking. She have to ask Caroline, seeing as she's so well informed.

"Don't say that about her," Harry says tightly, "Louis, god. I'm sorry if you felt like that, but I wasn't doing anything I swear - "

"I don't think I can do this," Louis says quietly, and the whole world seems to stop. Harry gasps, the sound brittle in the silence.

"You should go," Louis continues, squeezing her eyes shut.

"Lou," Harry whispers, but Louis can't bear it, can't bear that she's caused Harry this pain. She can't stand Caroline, yes, but she's not strong enough to stand up for herself, to just - pretend it doesn't matter. 

"Go," Louis says brokenly, and she hears Harry bite back a sob. Louis thinks she might throw up.

"If that's what you want, Lou," Harry says finally, soft, broken, and the door closes.

Louis cries.

 

 

 

 

Louis spends the rest of the weekend moping. She feels half miserable and half  _stupid._ Yes, Caroline was out of order, and yes, Harry should have have noticed. But Louis could have said something, could have brought it up -

She doesn't know who's to blame. Both of them probably. But now Louis' lost the one person she loves most in the world, and that was her decision. She dumped Harry. Her choice.

By Monday, Louis' feels like crap, only a thousand times worse. She doesn't even bother putting on any make up, just some concealer to hide the bags under her eyes.

She heads for her form room instead of the common room before the bell rings. She knows the girls will be there, and she's not sure how much they know. Louis certainly hasn't said anything.

She manages to escape most of it until second lesson, until psychology.

Psychology. Where she sits next to Harry.

Louis mentally curses every single god she knows, then adds a few on for good measure. She is so, so  _screwed._

She's early to lesson, walking past Harry's chair cautiously as if it's a hand grenade. She sits rigid, palms beginning to sweat as she watches the door. 

When Harry finally comes into the class - just as the bell rings, she was always late, - Louis feels like she's been punched in the stomach. Harry looks awful, violet bruises under her eyes, eyes that look shattered and torn, hair stuffed into a beanie and a jumper that hangs over her skinny wrists.

Louis swallows as she takes her usual seat. She's close enough Louis can smell the vanilla shower gel Harry uses; Louis brought if for her because Harry says it makes her smell like a scented candle, and Louis thought that was the cutest thing since baby kittens.

Harry gets her pen out of her bag wordlessly. She goes to write the date, only her hand trembles, and she stabs down too hard with the pen. An inky line spreads across her page, leaving a permanent dark smear.

Harry's bottom lip begins to quiver. 

Wordlessly, Louis pushes a new pen over to her. She looks ahead the entire time.

Harry freezes, then accepts it. She murmurs a thanks, and Louis has to bite her fist to stop herself from doing - something. Crying maybe. Kicking the table over might be another alternative.

They don't speak for the entire lesson.

 

 

 

"Harry's crying," Zayn says matter of factly, pushing open the bathroom door. She gives a couple of Year 8s the  _look,_ and they nearly break their necks getting out of the door.

Normally this would make Louis smirk, but today she just sighs. "Do you have any mascara I can borrow?"

Zayn hands over her mascara without comments. She wears ripped denim jeans, and a plain grey vest top with a black feather on it, but she still looks miles better than Louis could on a good day. 

"Harry's crying," Zayn repeats, leaning against the sink. "Her mascara's run. She looks like a drunk spider has run across her face." At the lack of reaction Zayn raises an eyebrow. "Louis. Harry is crying."

"We broke up," Louis says dully, the words like a splinter sliding into her heart, "I over reacted. I don't want to talk about it."

Zayn blinks big amber eyes at her, running a hand through her messy brown hair. "What the fuck, Louis? Why? You didn't think to mention this? What happened?"

"I don't want to talk about it," Louis repeats, but Zayn can see right through her bullshit, always has, and she just fixes her with a stare.

"Lou," she says gently, "come on. What happened?" She slings an arm around Louis, cuddling her close. Louis fists a hand in Zayn's shirt, breathes in the familiar smell of ashy smoke and paint.

"Caroline was flirting with her," Louis mumbles into Zayn's shirt. She may actually be talking to Zayn's boob. Oh well. It's a nice boob. "She said stuff, I got jealous and walked out. Harry came to talk to me and - "

Louis ducks her head, embarrassment cutting her words off. "I was cruel," she continues finally, tone miserable, "I accused her of stuff, I was a complete bitch, Zayn. I should have just got on with it - "

"Louis," Zayn says firmly, "Louis, you are perfectly within your right to say if you feel uncomfortable. If this Caroline girl - "

"Not a girl," Louis mutters, "She's 21."

Zayn raises an eyebrow. "What a  _cougar."_

Louis really loves Zayn.

"Anyway," she continues, "you're allowed to say you don't feel comfortable. That's the point of being in a relationship, that you tell each other things. And maybe Harry should have picked up on that."

"But," Zayn says, squeezing Louis' waist, "sometimes you have to tell people that. Did you tell Harry you were insecure about this girl?"

Louis swallows. "No."

"And was Harry flirting back?"

Louis doesn't even have to think it. Of course Harry wasn't. She wasn't pushing Caroline away, but Louis knows Harry would never flirt with anyone else. She's friendly, and she's a cuddler, but she's not a cheater. Not ever. If Caroline was coming onto her, Harry most likely had no idea. 

"Of course," Zayn answers softly, "because trust me, I know Harry. She would never ever cheat on you. And maybe she didn't realise you were insecure, and maybe she should have guessed you'd be uneasy around her ex - sugar mummy or whatever - "

"Sugar mummy? I think I just threw up in my mouth," Louis whines, but she fist bumps Zayn anyway.

"And maybe she could've done more," Zayn finishes, mouth twisting up into a wistful smile. "But you both need to talk about it. Because she loves you, Lou. I know she does. And I know you're disgustingly into her too. So don't let this break you up, okay?"

"Okay," Louis sighs, feeling slightly less like she's left pieces of herself shattered everywhere. "I really miss her, Zayn," Louis says softly, because she does. It's ridiculous, but all she wants to do is pull Harry close to her, to hold her hand, to listen to her babble on about the patriarchy in Western society, to breath in her soft scent and fist her hands in Harry's curls. She loves Harry so much, and now it's like she doesn't now what to do without it, doesn't know what to do without her best friend.

But Louis' a wuss, so she just says, "Is, um. Is Harry okay?" and looks at the floor.

"She called Liam crying this morning," Zayn says softly, stroking Louis' back, "Liam said she thought she'd been stabbed, she was so hysterical. She kept saying she felt so bad about you being upset about Caroline, that it was all her fault. She's proper torn up about it, mate, she cried in the common room this morning. I didn't realise you'd broken up, though. Just had an argument."

"I'll talk to her," Louis promises quietly, scrubbing her own eyes. Harry being upset makes her feel as though her heart's being ripped in two. 

"Okay," Zayn says gently, giving Louis a final squeeze, "make sure you do. You never heard me say it, but you two are fucking adorable, okay?"

"Okay," Louis grins, even her tone is slightly wobbly. She'll have fucked up her mascara now, but she feels lighter, airier, like she's able to breathe again.

 

 

 

Harry picks on the first ring when Louis calls her after school. "Lou?" Harry answers, and it's so tentatively hopeful it's painful.

"I don't want to break up with you," Louis blurts, then smacks her forehead with her hand. "Crap, I was going to do this properly, I swear, I was going to say it face to face - "

"Louis," Harry breathes, "I really don't care, I don't want to break up with you either."

"Oh," Louis says dumbly. She can feel her heart thumping in her chest. "I'm sorry for lashing out, I was scared and jealous, and - "

"It's my fault," Harry argues, "I should have realised you were upset about it, Caroline was my  _ex,_ jeez, how did I not pick up on that? I'm so, so sorry - "

"I didn't mention it!" Louis argues back, "I just walked out, I should have said something."

Harry pauses, then says in a tiny voice, "Can I come over?" Louis hears her take a shaky breath.

"Of course," Louis says immediately, "of course you can, Harry, we had one fight, you're not barred from my house."

"Daisy and Phoebe would let me in," Harry teases, "Okay, I'm coming over."

Louis swallows. "Hurry," she whispers, then hangs up before she can be accused of being a sap. She sits on the side of her bed, biting her nails as she waits for Harry to come over. She kicks her heels back and forth, and then freezes when she hears the front door open.

Louis doesn't even hesitate when her door opens. She throws herself at Harry, who catches her, because of course she does. Louis wraps her legs around Harry's waist, and buries her face in Harry's neck, taking in a deep breath and feeling happiness settle across her bones.

Harry carries to her bed, sitting down so Louis' in her lap. She keeps her arms around Louis' back, holding her tight, pressing her forehead to Louis' shoulder. "I missed you so much."

Louis swallows, pulling back. "I'm sorry I didn't give you chance to explain. I'm sorry for running off."

Harry shakes her head, green eyes miserable. "I shouldn't have talked to Caroline if you felt uncomfortable."

"I'm not going to control who you're friends with," Louis argues, gripping Harry's forearms. She rubs her hands up Harry's arms, the action instinctual. "It's more what she said afterwards."

"I shouted at her when Nick told me," Harry says softly. Louis cups her face with one hand, stroking her thumb over her cheekbone. "She knew you were my girlfriend, she just - she was drunk. And she likes being the centre of attention. It's not an excuse, she was out of line."

Louis nods, unsure what to say. "I blocked her on Facebook too," Harry says after a second, and Louis can't help bursting into laughter.

Harry grins too, resting her hands on Louis' thighs. She must be heavy, but Harry's not complaining. "You have to tell me you feel like this though, boo," Harry says softly, "I know I'm partly responsible, but I'm not a mind reader. I want you to trust me, babe. I would have left her side in a minute."

Harry ducks her head, pressing her forehead to Louis' shoulder. "I only wanted to be by your side anyway."

Louis' heart swells, and she tugs Harry up for a kiss. It's sweet and familiar, Harry's mouth sliding against hers. She tastes fresh, like toothpaste, and Louis chases the taste, licking into her mouth. 

"I'll talk to you about it next time," Louis breathes when they break away, faces inches apart, breathing the same air. "We'll sit down and have a powerpoint presentation about my insecurities."

"You shouldn't have any," Harry says, and the way her voice drops sends shivers down Louis' back. She runs her hand down Louis' back, reaching down and cupping her arse, palming it slightly and making Louis gasp.

"You," Harry breathes, leaning forward and kissing her neck. She bites down, sucking the skin until Louis' writhing, then kissing it gently in apology. "Are absolutely gorgeous, in every way. And I love you."

"I love you too," Louis grins, placing a quick kiss on Harry's lips, "I love you so much."

Harry smiles, her entire skin glowing, and she looks so gorgeous, happy and content because of  _Louis._ Her girlfriend, who loves her. And maybe they screw up, but they fix it.

Probably by screwing, Louis thinks wryly, as she pushes Harry onto the bed, straddling her. She spreads her hands over Harry's ribs, counting everyone, grinning when Harry wiggles, ticklish.

"Kiss me, you fool," Harry beams, green eyes dancing.

"Shut up," Louis breathes, and does just that.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know if this was really out of character? Any feedback would be appreciated either way :)
> 
> [girl!direction blog](http://everyjawdrops.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [my tumblr! :)](http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/)
> 
> or if you just wanted to reblog the fic link, that would be hella rad ;) [*bambi eyes*](http://ariadneodair.tumblr.com/post/111086329362/half-as-much-as-i-love-you-how-is-louis-supposed)


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